closed door.
everything not close,
open fingers.
closer hues,
like purple to red and violet,
they are closely entwined, but not
closed,
they may be close enough
to resemble the kind of warmth
and ambiance found within
the nearness of their hues,
but they know, on closer
scrutiny, their differences,
distinct as sand to sun,
separable as clouds
to rain,
and you to me,
i am warm as red,
you are pink as desire,
we blend, i am fire and
you are this cinder.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem